If the Shoe Fits
by Phillippa of the Phoenix
Summary: A prince sets out to find his love, his Cinderella, and finds her, or so he thinks. But princes are so easily confused, what with all the pretty girls around . . .
1. Identity & Theft

¤¤¤¤ Phillippa here! ¤¤¤¤

I hope you guys like this one: it's short and silly (but not as short or silly as Puzzled) and based upon Cinderella. (I'm sure you're all shocked.) I was inspired one day as I looked through the fairy tale fanfics. One talked about a prince who was "too dense to realize that more than one girl has the same shoe size." I was instantly bombarded with ideas. What if the prince thought he had found Cinderella, but had only found a girl who looked like and had the same size feet as Cinderella? What would that girl think?

Ta-da!

(and no, this Fiona has nothing to do with Shrek's wife Fiona. Except fairy tales, and even that's a pretty sketchy comparison.)

If the Shoe Fits . . .

(a little mix-up from the beguiling world of fairy tales)

Identity (&) Theft

"Fi, could you go check downstairs for my . . . my . . . you know, my thing? My thing with . . . things in it? You know?" Reese stared into the mirror, stroking the scraggly hairs on his chin, as he spoke all this to Fiona, who hated being called Fi.

"I assume you mean your shaving kit, Reese?" Fiona shook her head. If Reese had a little less brain, he probably would not be able to even walk straight.

"Um, yeah, my shaving . . . thing," Reese replied, not looking at his twin sister.

Fiona put her pale hand to her forehead and groaned. With a loud, long sigh, she walked past him and down into the cellar. It was so dusty, Fiona could hardly see. She tripped over something and handed head-on into the fireplace. "Oh, ow," Fiona moaned. "Darn it, Reese! Can't you get your own things?" As she stumbled around in the dark, she thought she heard something upstairs. She figured it must be one of Reese's cronies, because if any of Georgia's friends arrived, there was much squealing and "oh my gosh!"-ing. How had it happened that Fiona had ended up with the entire IQ in the family, she had never quite figured out. Her fingers grasped something that felt like Reese's shaving kit. Fiona blew on it and soon realized it was not at all. She put it down and moaned in frustration. How was she ever going to find the shaving kit in all this mess? Serves me right for not cleaning it all these years . . .

"Fiona, um, could you, like, like, come upstairs, um, for, like, just, like, um, a minute? Um, 'cause, like someone's, like, um, here?" Her sister Georgia, who had an ounce more sense than Reese and a little less hair on her chin, called down the stairs.

"Yes, Georgia, I'm coming." Fiona trudged up the stairs. This was not a good day. She hoped whoever it was did not care that Fiona was covered in dust and ashes and had not taken her shower yet.

"Um, like, this is, like, her?" said Georgia.

"Good morning, sirrrrr," said Fiona, dragging out the sir as she stared at their visitors. They looked . . . really important. And unhappy. And . . . royal? Oh, you've done it now, Fiona, baby.

"Good morning, miss," said the tall man, with a tiny bow, and his long nose wrinkled in disgust. It is not very polite or courtly to wrinkle your nose at me like that, Fiona wanted to say. The other man did not bow at all but stared at her with the blankest expression Fiona had ever seen. What is wrong with you, Fiona wanted to ask.

"Um, like, I'm sorry she's, like, um, so dirty and like --"

"Georgia!" Fiona hissed at her. The least her sister could do was let her make her own excuses -- er, explanations.

"Um," Georgia finished quickly. Fiona pushed her disheveled hair back into her ponytail and smiled at the gentlemen. Why didn't they just tell her what they wanted all ready? Fiona felt her face glow red.

"Miss, would you do us the honor -- " Fiona almost laughed, for the tall man looked so revolted, it was comical to hear him still speaking stuffily. " -- of trying on this glass slipper?"

Glass slipper, thought Fiona. What kind of nut case wears a glass slipper? "Of course," she said, (hopefully) demurely. It was sitting on a pillow. Fiona wanted to laugh again. Well, it was obviously breakable . . .

She sat down on the nearest chair and slipped off her left shoe, ashamed at how grimy and hideous her feet were. The tall man looked repulsed and the other man looked bored. Fiona hoped they would leave soon. She hardly felt it right to breathe around them. The tall man knelt in front of her -- Fiona, suddenly and strangely, thought of the tall man proposing to her -- and placed the glass slipper on her filthy foot.

Fiona looked up at the tall man. The tall man looked up at her. All right, now what happens, thought Fiona, with a glance at the bored man, who was staring at Georgia, who was also staring at Fiona's foot.

"Your Highness," said the tall man. Fiona wanted to cry. This was their prince? She suddenly felt worried for their country.

"What is it, Jerald?" His voice even sounded blank, bored. Was it possible for him to be interested in anything? "Are we finished -- " The prince finally caught sight of Fiona. And Fiona's foot. And the glass slipper currently on Fiona's foot. His bored look was changed to an almost excited one. Wow, thought Fiona. The wooden prince has feelings? That's news.

The tall man, Jerald, stood up and held out his hand to Fiona, looking (was it possible?) a little less horror-struck at the sight of her. She grabbed it and stood up. Whoa, thought Fiona, I'm tipsy! Or something.

Suddenly, Woody, the wooden prince was at her side, holding onto her elbow -- hard! -- and saying a lot of things extremely fast that Fiona could not understand.

" -- and I never thought I would find you Cinderella it's so amazing and you look just like you did last night and it's so amazing and -- " Woody was babbling.

"Hold on a minute, Your Highness," said Fiona, moving as quickly as she could (which wasn't that quickly, she was trying not to maim herself with the glass slippers) away from Woody. "What are you talking about? Cin-drella? My name is Fi-o-na." Fiona would have felt rude if Woody wasn't being so awfully familiar.

"You -- you -- you -- you -- what?" Woody's face had moved on to 'almost shocked.'

"I'm sorry, Your Highness, but you've mistaken me for someone else. My name is Fi -- o -- na," she said, even slower this time, " -- and I've never met you before in my life. I'm sorry."

"You -- you -- you -- what?" Woody was sounding much akin to a broken record.

"I'm not whoever you are looking for. This is not my shoe," Fiona said, talking like she would to Reese, or Reese's friend Joseph. "I'm sorry." Fiona leaned down, pulled off the glass slipper, and handed it to Jerald. "Um, have a nice day. Good luck."

"No, please, Cinderella," said Woody.

"I told you!" said Fiona, with finally lost patience. "My name is Fiona! Eff-eye-oh-en-ah. Fiona. Not Cin-drella!" Jerald reached forward and, with a nod from Woody, seized Fiona by the elbow. "Hey! Let go!"

The last thing Fiona saw before the door of her house slammed shut was Reese and Georgia, both waving like the numb-skills they were.

Mental note, thought Fiona, sitting in a carriage, still kept captive by Jerald's iron grip, the next time someone mistakes me from some chick named Cin-drella, run, don't walk, to the nearest exit and don't stop until you reach the closest bordering country!

review review review review


	2. Royal Mangagement

YES! YES, YES, YES! FIVE PEOPLE REVIEWED!

Oh, sorry about that, but I was worried no one would review because it's rather silly and has almost no plot and really silly characters. . .but you liked it!

So, with no more gilding of lillies. . .

If the Shoe Fits. . .

(a little mix-up from the beguiling world of fairy tales)

Royal Management

"Don't worry, Cinderella, I'll have you sparkling like the princess I know you are in only a minute! Why, I have seen worse, much, much worse! Once, the prince's great uncle James was dragged three miles through the mud! You should have seen the baths that day! What a mess! Yes, I have seen many people cleaned on spots I would swear had never seen a proper brush and soap! Yes, ma'am, you aren't even near the worst I have seen!"

This speech was frightening for the primary reason that the lady, Penelope, she had said, gestured passionately with her hands as she spoke, getting the whole room soaked and smelling of soap. _Why is she in charge of the baths? Doesn't anyone know how she speaks with her hands_, wondered Fiona in her mind.

The worst part was that Fiona was completely naked and someone else was washing her. _Dear God_, Fiona prayed, _please do not let Woody come in right now. . ._

At the beginning of the bath, Fiona had tried to convince Penelope that she was not Cin-drella and had never heard of her. Penelope only responded with, "Oh, dearie, I'm sure the prince has scared you a little, but he's not so bad once you get to know him!"

Fiona wondered why Penelope had mentioned Woody. What did he have to do with anything? Suddenly, Fiona remembered that there was a ball held last night for Woody, so he could pick his bride. Woody . . . picked her? No, no, he had picked Cin-drella and mistaken Fiona for her. But -- couldn't Woody tell the difference?

Fiona, quite abruptly, had an intense longing to go home. She was anxious about Reese and Georgia. Their parents had died three years ago, when Fiona was 15, and she had been watching over her twin brother and younger sister (Georgia was four years younger) ever since. She hoped Mrs. Greenway, their next-door neighbor, would check in on them.

"Penelope? Um, could I maybe send a message home? My family might get worried -- " Fiona said with a shiver.

"Oh, dearie, you just call me Penny, we go by Penny, dear! Your family all ready knows what has happened to you, we are sure of it! The prince, didn't he come by your house this morning?"

"Yes, he did, but still -- "

"Oh, don't worry your golden head about it, miss! Your family can function quite fine without you," Penny said, pointing a pudgy finger at Fiona.

"No, I don't think you understand. My family depends on me, they need me," Fiona explained as she was rinsed off.

"Then they'll have to learn to fend for themselves! They're adults, miss; maybe it's time they grew up!" Penny wrapped Fiona in a plush red towel.

Fiona sighed. _I guess it is time for Reese to grow up,_ she thought._ But how will he take care of Georgia? No, I have to go back home_. "Penelope, can't you just let me go home?"

"Penny, dearie, I'm just your ole Auntie Penny!" Fiona shuddered inwardly at the thought of Penny being her aunt. Her mother probably would have gotten rid of her when they were children.

"Please? I'm really not Cin-drella, my name is Fiona, and my parents -- "

"Oh, miss, you need not explain to me! I know they are dead, miss, know it for sure!" Fiona gasped. How in the world . . .

"How did you know that?" Fiona asked accusingly.

"Tuh!" said Penny, leading Fiona into the next room. "Miss, you couldn't have been living with your stepfamily if your parents were alive, could you? Of course not!"

"My stepfamily?"

"Oh, yes, I know it may still be hard to speak of them, but I know how you might be feeling, miss. I lost my own father when I was but 29 years of age, and my mother when I was 37." Fiona thought that Penny was obviously trying to sound empathetic, but 29! That was years and years older than 15! Penny, to Fiona, only ended up sounded fake, fake as the dress she was wearing.

"I've never worn velvet before," Fiona (almost) gushed.

Penny made another 'tuh!' noise and shook her head, her grey hair flying through the air. "Oh, miss, that's not velvet at all!"

"It's . . . not?" Fiona ceased stroking it.

"Of course not!"

_Is there anything real here? I'm not really Cin-drella and that really isn't my glass slipper, Woody's not really in love with me, Reese and Georgia aren't really my stepfamily, and this dress really isn't velvet._ Fiona sighed. _I want to go home!_

---- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----

"Presenting . . . Eleanor Elizabeth Johannes, fiancée of the prince!"

_Well_, thought Fiona, _at least they got one name right_. She pictured herself coming into the living room at three years old and proclaiming, "Pwesenting . . . Fiona Kathewine Johannes, daughtew of the cawpentew!" Her parents would have made 'she's crazy' signs with their fingers and laughed before picking her up and kissing her.

No one was laughing here. Everyone was utterly still. Fiona felt stiff and chafed, and she could barely breathe. "It's a corset, miss, the latest thing," Penny had said, almost smacking a passing-by maidservant on the shoulder with her overenthusiastic arm.

"Miss Johannes," said the king.

"Miss Johannes," said the queen.

"Miss Johannes," said Woody.

"Miss Johannes," said Jerald.

"Miss Johannes," said all the rest of the court, which was, Fiona observed with a quick look-over, mostly haughty men with pompous wigs. Once again, she felt disturbed for her country.

"Your Highnesses, my Lords," said Fiona, with a deep curtsy. _Oh, ouch, my poor ribs,_ she thought. _Mental note: do not curtsy deeply while wearing a corset. _She hoped she would never have to use this mental note, but Fiona had the feeling she would, and rather often.

"Miss Johannes," said one of the court-members, with a large nose. "Welcome to the royal court." Fiona gave him another (shallow this time) curtsy and smiled at him, trying as hard as she could not to grimace. Big Nose continued, "The royal court has been in existence for many, many years. At the time of King Harold the IV, it began." Fiona tried desperately to remember Harold the IV, but nothing came to mind. Oh, please don't ask me anything, she thought.

"The royal court went through many changes," said the pompous man to the left of Big Nose, who had a wart on his cheek. _Am I supposed to curtsy? Oh, who cares?_ "The most notable was the change from 15 members to 17." In Fiona's opinion, if that was the biggest change, the royal court needed a life. Desperately. "The royal court as it is today came into being in King James the III's reign," said Wart Cheek, straightening his powdered wig with a sniff.

The man to the right of Woody, who kept sneezing, spoke up. "The royal -- achoo! achoo! -- court serves as -- achoo! -- the judicial branch, -- achoo! -- the senate and -- achoo! achoo! achoo! -- the legislative branch. Achoo!" Sneeze wiped his nose snobbishly, which Fiona might have said was impossible before she meet the royal court.

The man sitting to the left of the king, who was obviously the Chief Pompous Old Man, cleared his throat importantly. All eyes went to him. "The royal court is never questioned, ever. However, if one of its members is deemed unfit, he may be voted out of the royal court."

Fiona felt dizzy. Chief Pompous Old Man was moving his mouth, but nothing was coming out. _I need to sit down_, she thought. But she was standing in the middle of a circular room, where would she sit then? _This floor looks soft enough_, she thought, before tumbling to the hard oak ground in front of the whole royal court.

Yes, I stole this last idea from Just Ella, but I didn't steal anything else! Please forgive me!

(silly thank-yous)

Aerinha -- I am clever, aren't I? No, you aren't dense!

Dragon -- You "kind of" want to know? Thanks . . . I think.

Peri Briar -- Poor cinderella indeed. She won't appear in this story at all.

mythicalmemory -- Oh, thanks so much for that kickin' compliment! GO AHEAD AND HIT HIM!

Tiger Lily21 -- Ooh, I want to smack Woody! (smacks him) He is quite an idiot.

review review review review


	3. Friends & People You Wish Were Strangers

My name is Phillippa, and I have no energy. EXAMS SHOULD BE BURNED! (sigh)

Thank you to. . .

Aerinha -- You may have Penelope. She says that she may gesture A LITTLE, but it isn't as bad as I say. Yes. She is in denial.

Lulai -- Thanks. And yes, Wart Cheek is his real name. No. Not really.

Miss Piratess -- This one's just for fun.

mythicalmemory -- Hey, I don't mind! Please, review away! Hm. . .well, you may picture Cinderella beating Woody with her fairy godmother's wand, if that makes you feel any better.

Tiger Lily21 -- Yes, I got Just Ella for a birthday present a while ago. It's good, but not as good as Ella Enchanted. . .wait and see who Fiona falls for.

If the Shoe Fits. . .

(A little mix-up from the beguiling world of fairy tales)

Friends and People Your Wish Were Strangers

Fiona was in a comfortably soft bed, covered with silky covers. "Is it satin?" she asked Penny.

"Of course not!" Penny said, flinging her arms and hitting Woody on the head. Woody fell onto Fiona's bed. "Oh, no, princess," said Penny, still gesturing. "Now you'll have to take care of him."

"What? No, no, I don't want to, I don't want to, please, please, don't make me, anything but that . . ."

But Penny was all ready gone.

---- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----

"Now, miss, I knows you lucky an' all, cause you a princess now, but I wouldna wanna be you for anythin'. Tossin' and turnin' and moanin' in you's sleep, gettin' fret upon by strangers, an' that doc-man who alluz frowns at you so 'orrible . . . no, miss, I be happy as meself. I gots a lot o' lovin' from me pappy, an' me mammy, an' me grammy, an' all. No, miss."

Fiona was dimly aware that someone was speaking to her, but she could not imagine who it could be. She had a rough voice and the speech of an uneducated servant. Fiona opened her eyes just a crack and saw that the girl in question was not facing her. She sat up a little and wiped her eyes. _Wow_, she thought, staring at her hands, _that's a lot of eye gunk._

"Though I admit the prince a catch an' all, an' it would be awful nice to live in the seat o' luxury an' all, I think I be a bit better off than you -- " With a shriek, the girl dropped her duster. "Oh, miss, oh, miss, begging your pardon, miss, begging your pardon," she said, speaking faster than anyone Fiona had heard before this. The girl made movements akin to running full tilt to the door and never coming back, but Fiona stopped her.

"No, wait," she called.

The girl halted immediately, turning around slowly. Tears fell down her sunken cheeks as she sobbed, "Oh, please, miss, oh, please, I didna mean anythin' by it, miss, oh, please . . ." Fiona felt shocked to her core. The poor girl was carrying on because she had been 'so bold' as to speak to her while she slept? Something was intensely wrong with this castle.

"Come here," she said, patting her bed. "Please." The girl inched forward slowly. "Come on," Fiona said, firmly. She finally came up to the bed, still weeping. "You don't have to worry." The girl gave a small sniff. "What is your name?"

"Moll -- Moll -- Molly," the girl stuttered.

"Molly, despite all you have heard, I am not who you think I am." The girl was positively silent. "I'm just a girl, just a girl like you."

Molly, who was staring at her shoes as if they were the most interesting thing she had ever seen, gradually looked up at Fiona. "What?"

"I'm not a princess or lady or anything. I am an orphan who lives with my brother and sister. I'm only three steps above you, if that," Fiona explained slowly.

"An orphan? Really?" Molly asked, leaning forward so much that Fiona could see the small dirt smudges underneath her eyes. "But, then, why is the prince marrying you? I don't understand."

"Do you know what, Molly?" Fiona asked, feeling so worn out she could hardly believe it. "Neither do I. Neither do I."

---- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----

"Oh, Fiona, you'll never believe it!" Molly said, rushing through the door.

Penny raised her black eyebrows at Fiona, seeming to say, 'A maidservant girl, dearie? Is this really respectable?' Fiona could not care less if it was. She had found a good friend in Molly.

"What happened?"

"The prince! He's -- " _Say dead_, thought Fiona, _dead, say he's dead_. " -- wants to see you!"

Fiona groaned loudly, leaning against Penny. "Why?"

"Well, of course, you're his fiancée after all. Of course he wants to see you!"

"No, he doesn't," Fiona muttered, rubbing her throbbing temples. She had suddenly gotten a headache at the thought of Woody coming to see her. "He wants to see Cin-drella."

"Well," chirped Penny brightly, ignoring Fiona's last statement. "That means you'll have to be extra-beautiful for your future hubby!"

_Yikes! Penny's right. Woody really is my future husband_, thought Fiona. _If I do not do something soon, I will end up married to Woody for good. This is a nightmare! A nightmare that I will not wake up from . . ._ Penny rung the bell for the maidservants and they all came trooping through the door -- as if they had nothing better to do in the whole world except waiting to be called. _Spooky._

Fiona stood helpless as she was pushed, pulled, prodded and perfected. Her hair even curled a little -- something Fiona had never seen it do -- and looked oddly soft. Another corset was strangling her waist, and she was wearing a dark blue dress that showed excessively too much skin -- especially on her top half. It was February, for goodness sakes! Fiona was going to catch pneumonia if she dared to go outside.

She turned herself slightly towards the window in her room. That was not very likely. Fiona had not been out-of-doors since . . . forever, it seemed. She had gone outside to see a jousting tournament in October and another in November. She had escaped for the first snow and Christmas. And New Year's. Even the servants were able to leave the castle more than she did.

"'Tis all 'bout a'tude, Fiona," said Molly, yanking on her arm like a five-year-old, even though she was the same age as Georgia. "If you go into it, depressed an' moody an all, it will be depressing an' all."

Fiona supposed Molly was right about it, but she was still unhappy. She had not had the misfortune to run into Woody (despite the fact that they lived in the same wing) for over two weeks. It seemed like her luck had finally run out and Fiona was none too pleased about it. Woody had been as wooden as ever at the dinner table, not saying anything to Fiona. _It must be a royalty thing_, thought Fiona. The king and queen had not said anything to her either.

Penny nudged her out the door, and Fiona gave a sad half-wave to Molly. Walking down the hallway with one of her ladies-in-waiting, Fiona started to chew on her nails, which she often did when she was nervous. "Stop that," said the lady-in-waiting. _Madeline_, thought Fiona. _No, Margaret. Maxine? Mabel? What is her name?_ "You'll ruin your manicure."

Fiona did not care three beans if she ruined her manicure. A plan needed to be mapped out. Otherwise, when she arrived in Woody's room, she would not have any idea of how to say it. _How about I say, 'Prince, I am terribly sorry but you have made a mistake. Contrary to what you think, I am not Cin-drella. Furthermore, you cannot marry me. There are at least three reasons why you cannot. Firstly, I am a penniless (all right, so that's not absolutely true, but it's close enough) orphan peasant. Secondly, I am not beautiful. I cannot give you beautiful children. Thirdly, I do not like you, you do not like me, and it will not make either of us happy to be married to each other. Goodbye, Your Highness, and good luck.'_ _That sounds diplomatic enough even to satisfy Woody._

The lady-in-waiting whose first name started with an M opened the door to Woody's sitting room, filled with plush furniture and huge, expensive-looking paintings and tapestries. Fiona took a deep, calming breath that didn't turn out to be expansive or soothing. Her pale fingers once more rubbed her temples and she gave a lengthy sigh. _It's now or never. Yuck. That sounds like the title of a book Georgia would read, with no plot or character development._

review review review review


	4. Sitting Rooms & Strange Looks

Wow! People seem to really lik this story a lot. Maybe it's just the summary's better. . .

Peri Briar -- I had a lot of funny making Penny. Weeelll, I really have no idea how long Fiona has been at the castle. Wait. Since August? I really hadn't thought of that. I think since August. Poor Woody. He hides in the back of my computer, begging me not to let anyone else smack him. But it is _so _entertaining!

rainkisser -- I was a little worried I had crossed the line with "Say dead," but it seems as though everyone hates Woody, so no one minded. And sorry, Cindy really won't make an appearence in this one. And their last name aren't the same -- that was just the only thing Cinderella hadn't told Woody. For Future Use: if someone asks me if something is going to happen and it is, but I want it to be surprised, I'll just avoid the question (and having to lie.) Sorry, Mia. I sound really Serious and Grumpy, don't I? I'm glad you like this, the idea kind of jumped on me and demanded to be written.

Miss Piratess -- YES! THE MANICURE! M-something appreciates your mourning greatly, especially since it was her who was doing the manicure!

mythicalmemory -- Naw, Woody isn't arrogant. He just likes being right, and right now he thinks he is. He'll learn soon. May I join you somewhere over there by the books in the corner next to the fluffy chair? Because it sounds very comfy.

Tiger Lily21 -- Molly reminds you of Mary (the servant girl in Just Ella) because. . .she sort of is, only I changed her a bit so she could be quasi-original.

x-koko-x -- Those of us who are easy to please are, in the end, always pleased. I don't think that's bad at all.

If the Shoe Fits. . .

(A little mix-up from the beguiling world of fairy tales)

Sitting Rooms and Strange Looks

"Good morning, miss," said the guard at the door.

_There's nothing good about this morning_, thought Fiona bitterly_. It's the worst morning of my entire life._ That statement wasn't quite correct. There were several mornings Fiona had experienced that were far, far worse than this one: when Reese threw her favorite doll out the window when she was small and it was trampled by horses, when Fiona fell down the stairs and broke her arm, the morning her papa died . . .

Fiona rubbed the tears out of her eyes and yawned. _I'm only tired, that's all._ Woody would not see her cry. He would probably be so astonished by the show of emotion he would not be able to say anything. With another yawn, Fiona dried the tears on her cheeks.

The sitting room was empty -- of people. Fiona walked over to the towering bookcases and extracted a book, a thick blue one. She had not told anyone here how much she loved to read, and so had been without books for a tremendously long amount of time. The History of the World, Volume 712 was the title. It was slipped back into its slot. It was likely Fiona was not going to read for at least another week. Fiona turned and leaned against the bookcase, gazing up at the chandelier.

_When I get my own sitting room, I'm going to make Woody move this chandelier over there. It's too beautiful to be in a sitting room of someone who is so . . . blank._ Fiona closed her eyes and imagined her own sitting room: real books that someone would read in the bookcases, the gorgeous chandelier, and Fiona, snuggled up with a thick blanket and a thick book. But no one else. For almost one second, marrying Woody did not seem to be that bad. Then, Woody barged into Fiona's lounge and plopped down on the couch next to her, hogging the blanket and trying to read over her shoulder.

_'Firstly,'_ Fiona rehearsed in her mind, _'I am a penniless orphan peasant. Secondly, I am not beautiful and I cannot give you beautiful children. Lastly, I do not like you, you do not like me, and we will not be happy with each other. I am sorry. Good luck and good-bye.'_

Stepping away from the bookcase, she ran her hand over the soft material of the dark green fainting couch and watched the chandelier twinkle and shine_. Good luck and good-bye. Good luck and good-bye._ A hard knock on the door sounded, and Fiona twirled around. _ Oh, that's right. I am in a palace; I don't have to answer the door._ With a click of his well-polished heels, the guard opened the door. Fiona squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. _Firstly, secondly, lastly. Good luck and good-bye._

It was Jerald.

Fiona was either disappointed or relieved. Jerald looked at her with a look on his face so far from revulsion that Fiona felt strange under his gaze. "Remember, Fiona," she heard her mother say in the back of her mind. "Clothes do not make the girl, but they sure do make her pretty."

Pale white hands covered paler shoulders. Jerald's hazel eyes traveled to the ground accompanied with a fake, self-conscious cough. Fiona walked over to the cream couch and sat down. Jerald sat as far from her as possible, on the cream couch's partner, the same style but in green.

_Honestly_, thought Fiona angrily. _I am not dressed like this so I can seduce you! I do not even want to be wearing this dress._ Fiona had the urge to laugh. If she had been in the city, and Jerald was not the prince's advisor, he might have whistled at her. Fiona might have slapped him. At least then, there would be no hard feelings. Now, Fiona felt violated somehow. _Something is intensely wrong with this castle._

Another knock echoed on the door. This time, it was even louder and more commanding than Jerald's._ Oh, goody, it's Woody_. For once, Fiona was happy her fiancé was coming. The guard went to the door yet again and Fiona readied herself. With Jerald there, it was going to be absolutely impossible. _ Firstly, secondly, lastly, good-bye. Easy as pie._

Woody came into his sitting room and did not even take a second to look at his chandelier. Fiona decided she was definitely going to have it in her sitting room_. No, I will not,_ she reminded herself. _I am not going to have a sitting because I am not going to marry Woody. Good luck and good-bye._

The reason Woody did not look at his chandelier was that he was staring -- or gawking, if he had not been royalty, who never gawked -- at Fiona. Except, Fiona found she did not mind it as terribly much when Woody looked at her that way like she had when Jerald had. _Duh, Fiona, he still thinks he is going to marry you; it's all right if he looks at you like that._ A feeling Fiona had never felt before came and settled itself firmly in the space just below her stomach.

"Your Highness," said Fiona with a shallow curtsy. After all, she was wearing a corset -- or was the corset wearing her? -- and she did not fancy fainting again. Woody just stood there (surprises of all surprises!) staring not-quite-so-blankly at her.

"Jerald?" said Woody, in a voice as toneless as his clothes. "Could you excuse us?" Jerald got up quickly and exited the room. The guard must have left, too, but Fiona did not see him. She was a bit preoccupied with how close (too close) Woody was sitting to her. "Oh, Cinderella, I still think of the night of the ball." Woody's warm hands found Fiona's, and she somehow could not pull away. "You will forgive me for not running after you?" Woody scooted even closer and Fiona could practically feel his heat. Why was he so warm? It was February. No one should be warm in February. Fiona closed her eyes and felt him inch closer and closer . . .

"I'm not Cin-drella, Your Highness," Fiona forced herself to say.

"Oh, come now," said Woody, his face almost angry and his hands letting go of Fiona's. "I thought we were through all that."

"Of course we're not! It's the truth!" Fiona said, her eyes now open. "My name is Fiona Johannes and I never went to the ball. How many times have I told you? Won't you let me go home?"

"Cinderella, I don't know what -- "

"I. Am. Not. Cin-drella. My. Name. Is. Fiona."

"Cinderella, I have no idea what kind of strange game you are playing, but I've had enough of it. You are my fiancée no matter what your name is, and you are going to marry me in two weeks!" Fiona watched in fascination as Woody's face and voice showed real, raw emotion for the first time since she had met him. Anger. Frustration. Irritation.

_Firstly, secondly, lastly. Good luck and good-bye._

"Furthermore, I have been told that you refuse to wear the dresses Diana picks out for you, despite the fact that she makes the best dresses in the country."

_Firstly, I am a penniless orphan peasant girl._

"Though, today, I see, you have given in, you have never worn them before. Diana's dresses cost a lot of money, Cinderella. You are letting it all go to waste! You could look like this everyday!"

_Secondly, I am not beautiful. I cannot give you beautiful children._

"And, my dear Cinderella," Woody said, his voice hinting of almost tenderness, "You look very beautiful in that dress. The most beautiful I have ever seen you."

_Lastly . . . lastly . . ._ Woody's hands were on Fiona's cold shoulders, and they were pulling her face closer to his. "So beautiful." _Lastly . . . lastly . . ._ Fiona had forgotten "lastly."

"Your Highness, I -- "

Woody placed his hand on Fiona's cold cheek. "There are times when no words are needed, Cinderella." Holding Fiona's face absolutely still, Woody leaned forward and kissed her, telling her many things and not speaking a word.

Something tells me you who review are not going to be too pleased with me. . .

review review review review


	5. The Dangers of Kissing Your Fiancé

Phillippa here!

I'm a little late, aren't I? Sorry, but. . .I have no excuse. (sigh) I'm just L A Z Y, and there really isn't any escaping it. I resume.

I like this chapter, even though I have a horrible feeling that some of you may not. . .and most of you may not, for a different reason.

* * *

If the Shoe Fits. . .  
(A little mix-up from the beguiling world of fairy tales) 

The Dangers of Kissing Your Fiancé

Woody's kiss was warm and familiar and, for a moment, Fiona could not remember where she was. It was just Fiona and Woody, Woody and Fiona. And the chandelier, glittering above them. As Woody held her body close to his, she thought again, _no one should be warm in January. _Somehow, she was not as bothered as she had been.

The kiss ceased and Fiona laid her tired head on his shoulder. She could feel Woody's happiness, shining as bright as the chandelier. She could even feel his breath, warm against her cheek. She snuggled in closer to him. _What am I doing?_

Fiona, in one fluid movement, was off the couch and against the bookcase - as far from Woody as possible. She could not think of anything to say, but her eyes were focused on the doorknob. Woody stood up, and Fiona noticed that his face was back to blank. The strange feeling in her stomach got worse. Woody moved so he was directly blocking her path to the door. "You're not - " Woody's voice was for some reason, hoarse and weary. "You're not Cinderella."

Fiona felt her whole body stiffen. "Hello! Said that!" she cried, rubbing the side of her face. "You didn't listen to me! I told you over and over and over again."

"I'm - sorry." Woody's face was definitely showing almost sorry, so Fiona, for whatever reason, decided to forgive him.

"It's okay. I guess I must look a lot like her, huh?"

"Exactly," Woody murmured.

"Apart from the fact that she is beautiful, of course, and I'm not, I'm just plain," said Fiona, sounding just pathetic. _Now he has to say that I am beautiful, because it sounds exactly like I am asking for a compliment. Oh, you've done it now, Fiona, baby._

"Who said you aren't beautiful?" Woody asked, carefully stepping closer to Fiona, who could not go anywhere since she was backed up against the bookcase.

For some reason, Fiona could not think of one person who had ever told her she was not beautiful. "Everybody did. All the boys did."

"Then they must have been blind, Fiona." This was the first time he had called her by her real name and it sent a small tremor through her as she thought, _I don't care if he calls me by my real name. Why would I? All I care about is if he is going to let me go home or not._

"I don't think so, Your Highness. They didn't act like they were blind . . . none of them had a cane. . ." This statement startled a laugh from Woody and it felt like every one of Fiona's nerves sizzled.

"Well put," Woody said, with the shadow of an almost smile on his face. He was close enough to reach out and touch her. Two steps away from being close enough to kiss her. "I wouldn't say you were plain, Fiona."

An insane thought came into Fiona's mind. _Even if he met me on the street, he would not call me plain. He really thinks I am beautiful. How odd._ Odder still how Fiona was suddenly noticing things about Woody she never had before. He had a freckle right next to the corner of his lips, and he had one curl that came down beside his eye. His eyes were so blue that his dirty blonde hair looked silly. As if it too should be as vibrant, instead of rather lackluster, like it could not decide whether it wanted to be brown or blonde.

As Fiona inspected Woody's face, he reached out a cautious hand and began to run it along Fiona's long hair, which had decided the day she was born to be a shocking white blonde instead of a soft golden blonde, which was fashionable those days. Part of her said, _hold me, please hold me, and make me warm again._ The other part of her was so quiet she could not even hear what it said. She let her body fall into Woody's and released her mind. She was free.

-

"Miss Johannes, would you prefer a yellow dress or a red dress today?" Diana asked, bustling about her dressing room.

"Um," said Fiona, biting her lip. She still was not sure which colors and styles look best on her, and when she had asked Woody about it, he had replied, "All of them, of course."

"I say red," said Molly, from the window. "'Tis Valentine's Day, an' all." Diana looked at Fiona, who nodded, letting her lip loose and smiling.

"The one with the pink trim, I think," Fiona told Diana with a wink at Molly. "I want to be festive, after all." When Diana had disappeared into Fiona's inconceivably large closet; which Fiona still had not seen all of yet; Molly left the window and sat down on Fiona's bed next to her.

"You wanna have the prince notice you is all," Molly said, calmly.

"What ever do you mean?" Fiona asked, just as calmly, with a patient smile, which said, _silly girl._

"You wearin' that new red an' pink dress 'cuz it so purty an' all."

"Perhaps," Fiona said, with an honest-to-goodness grin. "Perhaps."

Diana came back, carrying the stunning pink and red dress. Fiona loved it, loved the softness of it and how it fit her exactly, with **no** corset. She slipped into it easily as Penny ooh-ed and ah-ed over it. (She had been in the closet, sorting all of Fiona's dresses, before.)

Fiona found her way to Woody's sitting room without the help of the annoying lady-in-waiting with the first name that started with an M (_Martha? Mercedes? Marianne?_) and entered. It was empty of people, again. She sunk into the cream couch and pulled a book from underneath it. The Pixie Chronicles was very interesting so far, though Fiona was not sure it was very true. _Mermaids in love with humans? Witches? Spells? Sleeping 100 years and being awakened by a kiss? Yeah, right._

"Hello, my dear." Fiona recognized the voice immediately and felt a shiver of pleasure at its warmth.

"Good morning, Your Highness," she replied, trying her best to sound cold and distant. She turned a page and did not look up at him at all.

"I think we're past the formalities, Fiona," Woody whispered into her ear, leaning against the couch and letting a hand drop on her waiting shoulder.

"Perhaps," she agreed and let a happy smile bloom on her lips, thinking, _If anyone had ever told me that my heart would beat this fast from something **Woody** said, there is no way I would've believed them._ Woody maneuvered around the couch and made room for himself by pushing her over a bit, snuggling into the plushness of it. Fiona gave a sigh of annoyance that she did not quite feel inside of her as he pulled some of the green blanket towards himself. "Just take everything for yourself, why don't you!" Fiona snapped.

"Thanks. I believe I will." Woody pulled Fiona into him and kissed her with a content sigh. "I haven't seen you in forever," he sighed, stroking the side of her face with tender fingertips and then losing his hand in the thickness of Fiona's hair.

"We saw each other . . . yesterday," Fiona murmured, enjoying Woody's touch with her eyes closed.

"Meals don't count," Woody replied, holding her even closer. His hand wandered and ended up at her elbow, rubbing the fabric gently. "Is this a new dress?"

"Perhaps."

"I like it." _I knew you would._ "Wear it more often." _This commanding all ready, and we are not even married._

"Whatever you say, Woody - dear," Fiona sputtered, turning a red much akin to the color of her dress.

"What did you just call me?" asked Woody, in such a tone that Fiona could not decipher if he was angry with her or not. She bit down on her lower lip, as she did when she was nervous. Fiona found herself becoming more and more nervous around Woody every day.

"Woody," Fiona whispered. "Um, because of your . . ." _Should I tell him the truth? Should I lie and hope he does not realize it? What do I tell him?_ "Because of how unexpressive you are."

"I am unexpressive?"

"Yes!" Fiona said, amazed that he did not know that about himself. "You constantly look bored, or blank, and you never smile." Fiona was staring at her lap, not daring to look up at Woody. He lifted her chin gently and made her look him straight in the face.

He was smiling. A wide grin stretched across his face and made her heart flutter wildly in her chest. "I had not found anything to be happy or excited about," Woody explained. "That is why I was not happy or excited."

"Does that mean what I think it means?" _I make you happy and excited? Me?_

"Yes, it does," Woody answered, a half-smile on his face. "Fiona, I love you. Do you want to marry me?"

"You ninny. I'm all ready going to marry you." Fiona could not stop smiling. There was so much happiness in her; it just seemed to overflow.

"I know. But, do you want to?"

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes, yes, yes. And I found the most beautiful wedding dress. Diana made it, and it has all this lace and silk, and I actually look good in it -" Fiona knew she was babbling, but she was so happy and so excited, she couldn't control herself.

"You look good all the time."

"Ha. I do **not** look good when I just wake up. I do not even look close to good. You have not seen me then, otherwise you would not say that."

"That's true," said Woody, smiling down on Fiona as she laid her head on his shoulder. "But I will, and I'm sure I'll still say you are beautiful."

"Yes, but you'll be half-asleep, so you won't be able to tell what I look like anyway. Trust me. I look horrible after a long night of sleeping. My hair is all over and I always have red marks from my hand next to my face, and. . .and . . .and." Woody looked at her in a way that was like the way he looked at her the first day they kissed, only it said, _You are beautiful. You will always be beautiful. _"Promise me something," Fiona said.

"What?" Woody asked. Fiona was pleasantly surprised. He had evidently listened to all her ramblings, because a small smile was pulling at his lips.

"Promise me that you'll always look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Oh, never mind." And right then, Fiona felt that as sure as the sky was blue, she loved Woody and Woody loved her. She let her gaze wander to the window. The sky was grey with rain clouds.

Woody chose that moment to kiss her again, and it was as if he had said, _The sky may be unreliable, but I'll always be here._

And they lived happily together ever after, even though their first child, a girl called Wren, was a strange mix of Fiona's inflexibility and Woody's pomposity and their second child, a boy called Xavier, wanted to be a baker, not a king, and their last child, a daughter they named Emerald, always thought she was neglected . . .

the end.

* * *

Thanks to those lovely (and perhaps insane) people who reviewed! 

Aerinha

Dragon

doodlemonkey45

Lulai

Miss Piratess – Ahhhhhhhh! Please don't kill me! Here. . .take my teddy bear! I promise I'll never do it again!

mythicalmemory – Hi Kara! Your review made me laugh. And Cassie – Woody wasn't INTENTIONALLY messing around with poor Fiona's head. At least, that's what he says. . .Thanks for the sharing of the chair. . .ing. (Couldn't help it. Poet. Occupational hazard.)

nursyahirah

Peri Briar – Crazy as in wild, foolish or outrageous? (winks) I love the thesaurus. I agree. Horrible people have feeling and can be good kissers. It never occurred to me that chandeliers are probably impossible to move. Oops. I guess I'll just say – hey, this is a fairy tale! And after all, this is a palace. . .

Quiryn – I do know your opinion. But I chose not to use it. But that's the good thing about writing – you may write your own story about a prince's-butt-kicking, dragon-riding, bandit-fighting girl. Take the idea and run to the horizon!

rainkisser – All fixed up! (and I do love the word fandanza, which is not a word, according to the dictionary I own. Oh well. FANDANZA! FANDANZA! HAHAHAHA!) And you may punch Woody, but Fiona might feel the need to punch YOU, and I wouldn't want that to happen. I think. I also like the Never Given Speech. And sugar. And Mary Poppins. Chim-chim-a-ney, chim-chim-a-ney, chim-chim-cha-ree. . sorry I confused you. It's an odd feeling to confuse other people when you are used to being the one confused. . .

Tiger Lily21 – Ooh! I want to abuse Woody! (smacks him. Woody whimpers pathetically.) Here, take some of my calming tea. It helps a lot. And I bet it is your fault your copy of Just Ella is lying on the floor of your room! Admit it! HAHAHAHA! (coughs hoarsely) Um, anyway, thanks.

review review review review


End file.
